Revenge Can Be So Sweet
by VioletIsabelleLovett
Summary: First Sherlock fic! Moriarty thought it'd be funny to play a practical joke on Irene, and it just so happens that oppurtunity for revenge falls right into her hands.


Irene Adler was not a woman that most people liked to anger.

Most people, anyway.

But really, was Jim Moriarty ever considered for a _second_ to be like most people? He knew how to make her mad, and he knew he could get away with it.

When Irene went to take her nightly shower, she was rather unpleasantly surprised to find that he had replaced her shampoo in the shampoo bottle with gasoline. She knew it was him immediately, because she kept her flat locked at all times, whether she was in or out.

God knows how he managed to do it. but the words "Gotcha!" were scrawled on the bottom of the bottle in permanent ink, with a smiley face in the 'O'.

At that moment, Irene had somehow managed to scream every foul word in the book all in one sentence in her shower as she tried to wash the gasoline out of her hair and down the drain.

He had somehow managed to _scent_ the disgusting, foul-smelling liquid, so that it wasn't until she had lathered it in her hair that she really began to smell it, and realize what it was.

That son of a bitch was going to pay. One way or another.

Managing to rinse it out of her newly damaged hair, she threw on the first outfit she could find and ran to her phone, sending a text to Moriarty.

_Jim, where the hell are you? -IA_

She waited for about ten minutes. No answer.

Of course.

She tried calling him, but he wouldn't pick up. She thought he'd want to gloat about his victory, but apparently not.

She even tried driving to his flat, but he wasn't home.

Her clock in her car read to be about two thirty in the morning. Where the hell could he be?

It suddenly dawned on her where he could be. Dear God. What was wrong with him?

He was mostly likely at the bar a few blocks down. He was probably half-dead by now, seeing as how much alcohol he could consume in one go.

The funny thing was, Jim wasn't an alcoholic. He barely ever drank, but when he did, he drank _hard._

Irene groaned. She was going to have to go and get him before he did something really stupid, as usual.

The bar was about three blocks down. She guessed that Jim was probably there with his friend Sebastian Moran.

When she arrived, it was packed, and some American song was blaring through the speakers. A few men wolf-whistled at her as she walked angrily inside, her high-heels clacking against the floor. She spotted Jim almost immediately, sitting at the bar close to the door, and laughing hysterically at nothing in particular. Another man she recognized as Sebstian was eyeing him warily, looking a bit concerned.

She strode up to him angrily, grabbing him by the collar.

"Are you _insane? _Are you trying to make a fool of yourself?" she hissed at him, looking at the five bottles he had surrounding him.

He grinned at her, his eyes glassy. "Ireeeene. You look so lovely tonight! My darling you should sit. Have a drink."

She snarled at him. "You're coming _home. _Did you really think you were going to try and drive back, you _idiot?" _

Sebastian grimaced at her.

She yanked him out of the chair, causing him to collapse to the ground. A few people laughed. Pulling him roughly to his feet, she grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the doors. He turned back towards Sebastian.

"Goodbye Sebastian! I love you! Goodbye my love!"

Irene suddenly had an idea.

Snickering to herself, she pulled out her camera phone and turned the video on, pointing it at Jim who was now boisterously declaring his love for Sebastian Moran.

"I will always love you my angel! Goodbye! Goodbye!"

Irene suppressed a grin. "Let's go love. You need to get home."

She had to lift him up into the passenger seat, and buckle him in, as he was now gazing up at the sky with an ecstatic grin on his face. She reached his flat in about five minutes, and by then, he was asleep.

Irene was fairly strong, but she had to struggle a bit to lift him out of the seat and carry him inside. She laid him on his couch and smiled at him.

_Oh Jim, you're going to pay for ruining my hair darling._

Smiling to herself, she picked up a piece of paper and a pen, and jotted a few lines down on the paper, taping it to his wall where she knew he'd be able to read it in the morning. She blew him a kiss as he slept on the couch, and walked back out to her car to drive back to her flat.

Jim woke the next day, grimacing at the God-awful headache that seemed to make his whole body ache. He groaned, staggering off of his couch, and trying to stand steady.

He knew he had been drinking last night, but that's about it.

He saw a piece of paper taped to the wall with writing on it. Confused, he squinted at it.

_ Hi there darling._

_Check your phone, I left a little surprise on it. It's a video of you last night declaring your undying love for Moran. You drank a bit last night, and quite honestly, it was adorable. If you don't want me sending the video to Sherlock, meet me at my flat at 2:00._

_xx -Irene_

Moriarty groaned.

**A/N: This was just a little random thing of mine. I might try and continue it, but I don't know. Let me know what you think, and if I should maybe continue it. Thanks!**

**-VIL**


End file.
